A Body at Rest
by Late For The Sky
Summary: Summary: It's late at night at the Leverage offices, and Eliot makes a few observations about a certain teammate's eating habits, as well as a few internal observations.


**NB:** _Please see profile for general story disclaimer. Thank you._

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"Unless acted upon by an outside force, a body at rest tends to stay at rest."-A paraphrasing of Newton's First Law of Motion. 

It's late at night, and Eliot can't sleep.

Not a particularly uncommon thing, especially when they're in the middle of a job and Nate's got them working overtime trying to get leads on a very slippery SOB they're trying to track down. Hardison's been trawling through the guy's online records, Nate and Sophie are sequestered in Nate's office, doing God-knows-what, and Parker- Come to think of it, Eliot hasn't seen hide nor hair of the woman for the past three hours, which may or may not be a good thing.

He stops by the small kitchenette/ break room, just out of principal (and maybe to snag some of the beef jerky he keeps hidden behind the powdered creamer that Hardison won't touch), and stops when he sees Parker sitting at the small table, apparently concentrating rather fiercely on adding the right amount of cereal- that generic rice krispies stuff that's been sitting in the cupboard for a while now- to a bowl in front of her. It takes him a second to realize that the open jars of peanut butter (creamy- only Nate likes the crunchy stuff) and raspberry preserves with the spoons sticking out of them actually _mean_ something.

Parker seems to have added a healthy few spoonfuls of each spread to the bottom of her bowl, covered them with cereal, and then proceeded to mix it all around, so what's left is a large glob of sticky brown-and-red goo with cereal stuck all over.

'What the hell are you eating?' Eliot asks as Parker picks up a third spoon and scoops up a portion of the mixture.

'Food,' comes Parker's slightly muffled reply, and Eliot fights the urge to roll his eyes.

'I can see that, Parker. What I mean is, why are you eating that particular combination of ingredients? They don't normally all go together.'

Parker shrugs, not looking up from her makeshift meal. 'It tastes like a PB&J, but quicker and easier to make.'

Eliot shakes his head, inwardly amused by his teammate's actions. 'There's something wrong with you, Parker.' He says, and it's become such a habit by now that neither takes it seriously.

Parker shrugs again, and then shoves the bowl in his general direction, producing yet another (clean) spoon out of nowhere. 'Try some,' she says, holding out the spoon with a solemn expression on her face. It takes all the self-control Eliot has not to start laughing as he carefully takes the spoon from her and dips it into the bowl, taking a small amount of the mixture within.

He looks at it dubiously before tasting some (just 'cause he's good at cooking doesn't mean he'll try _everything_), and finds it surprisingly palatable. Perhaps a little sweeter than he'd like (he's not much of a raspberry man; give him some boysenberry, or maybe even some blackberry, and he'd be a bit happier), but he doesn't say anything and merely nods his agreement. Of course, now he has to dig out the carton of milk, check to see if it's gone bad (it hasn't; Sophie must've just bought it, then) and pour himself a glass. Sure, he may put up a "manly" exterior, but he can't stand too much peanut butter without some milk handy.

'Want some?' he asks Parker, who shakes her head. He shrugs, puts the milk back, and then sits down, listening to the silence of the office. Well, it's not actually _that_ silent. Eliot can hear Sophie and Nate's muffled conversation down the hall (he still doesn't want to know what they're talking about; Sophie sounds slightly pissed, and he knows that can't be good- for Nate, especially.) and the clacking of Hardison's keyboard as he sifts through a myriad of details, trying to find the right one that'll lead them to their quarry. It's a surprisingly comforting ambience, and Eliot has to wonder when, exactly, this had come about.

He files that thought away for a later day, and simply relaxes, enjoying the moment of peace he has been granted, wanting to soak up as much as he can before he has to start moving again, start the adrenaline rush of working a con once more.

**NB (2):** _Constructuve criticism and mild praise are both accepted. Thank you._


End file.
